We were in the middle of breakfast when Caed announced he needed to “go poopy” and scurried off the chair and around the corner to the bathroom. Thirty seconds later he was back, shouting, “Emergency! There’s a ‘mergency! C’mon, mommy, I need to get my firefighter gear.”Not knowing whether this was imaginary play or a legitimate cause for concern, I asked Caed if it was a real emergency, or just pretend. He emphatically communicated that this grave and imminent danger of which he spoke was REAL and lurking in the bathroom.So I sent him off to grab his emergency gear while I checked out the scene. Sure enough, the toilet was on the verge of overflowing, threatening to flood the floor at any moment with a potentially toxic combination of sewage. A minute later, Caed came charging back into the bathroom, this time sporting his full fireman attire. “See, I told you it was a ‘mergency, Mom. You better get that stick thing so we can fix it.” (He was referring to the plunger.)So, I grabbed a plunger, and we carefully made our way toward the toilet. As we moved in toward the fiery throne, Caed took off his fireman hat, reached for the plunger, and said, “Here, Mom, hold my hat.”My brave, brave boy. A hero for sure. But today would not be the day that he would operate a plunger for the first time. Soon enough, my son. Soon enough.So I told him to keep his hat on, and stand back. Waaaaay back. And I plunged our way to safety from the sewage.After all the excitement, Caed only had one thing to say. “Can I actually go poopy now?”